


Happy Together

by thecrisspointssystem



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, GN Reader, Reader Insert, femme reader, gn pronouns, send me more requests, this was a request lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4983451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecrisspointssystem/pseuds/thecrisspointssystem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the graduating Class of 1960-something's Senior Prom!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Together

**Author's Note:**

> okay i unintentionally made this a song fic, so, sorry if you hate this song (Happy Together by The Turtles) or you simply hate song fics  
> but it's awkward young!Ford fluff so here you go

Prom was going to be perfect.

Or close to perfect.

The only problem with senior prom so far was that you didn’t have a date.

But that didn’t matter.

You already had your baby blue knee length gown picked out, pressed, hemmed and set. You knew exactly which way your hair would be coiffed, your makeup would be done, and how you would arrive. Getting a date wasn’t necessarily a huge concern for you. You’d dated around a bit, but with the limited supply of young bachelors in Glass Shard Beach, you didn’t have many people you’d even consider going steady with, let alone actually blessing with your presence as their prom date.

Or so you said.

So you were okay with not having a date. Prom was a week away and that wasn’t a real issue. Girls went stag to prom all the time! You wouldn’t be the only one going alone! Guys going stag to prom has absolutely no negative connotation associated with it whatsoever, so why should it be different for you?

You were fine.

Prom night arrived and you were still dateless. It’d be a lot easier to deal with if your best friend her boyfriend didn’t dote on each other endlessly in front of your face. “A Castle In The Sky” was the theme. What did that even mean? The student government lazily decorated the walls with vines and painted sloppy gray brick wall backgrounds for the portrait backdrops. Low hanging clouds made of styrofoam and cotton balls were hanging from the ceiling, causing some of the taller students to hit their head. You looked around the room, which was actually the gym converted into a ballroom, and tried to absorb the energy of the dance. Some of the more social students were forming circles on the dance floor. Your best friend and her date were doting over each other, which caused you to physically gag. You looked over at the punch table and made eye contact with the one and only Stanford Pines. His face flushed and he averted his eyes.  _Hm, that’s new_ , you thought to yourself as you made your way to the punch table.

As you approached him, Ford stood in his place, drumming his fingers against the punch table and looked anywhere but your eyes. You smiled, almost proud that you made him nervous from over twenty feet away. He took a sip, looking down at the ground, inspecting his own shoes.

“How are you enjoying prom, Stanford?” you asked, pouring yourself a glass of punch. He shrugged, trying to avoid verbal respond, afraid of what might come out. “Do you have a date?” He nearly spit out his drink.

“Do I look like I could get a date?” he asked before gulping down the rest of his drink. You tsked.  

“Don’t talk about yourself like that!” you scolded and wagged your finger at him in a mock motherly tone. His face flushed again. He poured himself another drink and you both surveyed the room while planted near the punch table. Your friend and her boyfriend were still draped around each other, and since dinner was over, people were beginning to leave for the after parties.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up again. “D-do you have one?” he asked meekly.

“One what?” you responded, coming out of your own thoughts.

“A date,” he said, gesturing out to your class. You snorted.

“Oh yeah, I landed Crampelter for the night,” you said sarcastically, pointing at the class bully who was currently engaged in an arm wrestling contest with some poor joe.

“Really!?” Ford asked, nearly spitting his drink out again. You laughed.

“Of course not, Ford! I don’t like bullies. I came stag, just like you,” you said, elbowing his arm. He smiled shyly, his face pink with a faint blush. “Where’s Stanley?” you asked, looking for his twin.

“There,” Ford said, pointing at his brother, who was wearing a pink tux identical to Ford’s blue one. He was currently testing out a pick up line on a friend of yours, who slapped him and walked away in a huff.

“Ouch,” you said, clicking your tongue. Ford snickered, which caused you to bust up at Stanley’s misfortune. You smiled up at Ford and he gave you a sheepish grin in return. You heard the sound of a kick drum come through the speaker accompanied by the soft strumming of guitar chords.

“Man, I love this song,” you said to Ford between sips.

_Imagine me and you, I do_

“I’m sure it’s a great song to dance to,” he said, putting down his cup.

_I think about you day and night  
_ _It’s only right_

“Hm? I guess,” you said, cocking your eyebrows. He started to walk closer to you.

“So, will you?” he asked, holding out his hand. You smiled behind your glass.

_To think about the girl you love_

“Will I what?”

_And hold her tight_

“Dance with me?” Ford asked, drumming his fingers on his thigh. You placed your cup down, grabbed his hand and swiftly ran for the dance floor.

_So happy together_

He followed eagerly, but was unsure of what to do once you got to the dance floor. You noticed and grabbed his right hand, placing it on your waist, and placed your left hand on his shoulder. You grabbed his other hand and took the lead by gently swaying.

_If I should call you up, invest a dime_  
_And you say you belong to me_  
_And ease my mind_  
_Imagine how the world could be_  
_So very fine  
_ _So happy together_

As the tempo sped up with the chorus, you started to sway even faster, grabbing both of his hands, practically shaking him in place. You were shuffling your feet, jumping with the song, causing for you both to receive a few stares. He blushed at the change of direction. With the end of the chorus, you slowed down returning to your original pace.

“You know we’re matching, right?” Ford squeaked out. Your eyes lit up.

“It seems we are, Ford,” you said before pulling him into the swaying shuffle you were doing before as the chorus repeated. He complied more this time, twirling you and ended the chorus with a dip. You both spent the rest of the song shuffling, not caring that your dancing was horrendous and probably something to be teased about on Monday morning.


End file.
